


(why am i) Alone (again)

by FatalViolet520



Series: (all about) you, you, you [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Han Jisung | Han is a Sweetheart, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Lee Minho | Lee Know, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, but he also accidentally exacerbates minhos self esteem issues, implied panic attacks, irrational behaviour and thoughts, lapslock and parenthesis for jisung's pov, minho has self-esteem issues, okay i know that looks bad but i promise the ending is fluffy, reference to mental illnesses, sugary sweet ending very fluffy WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY I PROMISE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 07:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18244994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalViolet520/pseuds/FatalViolet520
Summary: It’s okay, Minho thinks, exhausted from learning the new choreography,it’s okay, it’s nothing big. I don’t need to bring it up. He’s so depleted of any energy that he can hardly lift the water bottle to his mouth. Watching Felix teach Jisung the part of the dance he can’t seem to grasp just yet, a hot wave of something, some feeling, rushes up to Minho’s chest, ugly and hard to tamp down. The thought is scalding and irrational, clawing up his throat until he feels sick with it because he thought he’d come past these thoughts.Why can’t he learn from me?Translations:Russian





	(why am i) Alone (again)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stray_Anpanman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stray_Anpanman/gifts).



> another commission for one of my tumblr moms!!!! i hope you like it~~ this turned out to be a lot more angsty than i had anticipated so here are some warnings just in case:
> 
> WARNINGS: low self-esteem issues, negative thoughts, reference to mental health issues, implied self-harm (only one line), jealousy, irrational thoughts and behaviour, implied panic/anxiety attack, nightmares
> 
> this is quite possibly my most angstiest fic i've ever written? i went for something more close to home, and so this is me projecting on to my characters (again) and please read the tags/warnings because it does deal a lot with mental illnesses and the ugly facets of it bc no one should be romanticising mental illnesses (if you think i do, please let me know and i'll change it)
> 
> otherwise, it does have a happy, fluffy ending, and all is good i pinky promise <3 enjoy reading, as always~~
> 
> Edit, 30/04/19: Russian translation now available thanks to xxxlove87-blog on tumblr!

 

_Without any rest, I ran all the way anxiously,_

_I, who chose the strenuous road,_

_Flowers only bloom after winter,_

_I just need to see the fruits of the flowers,_

_Blessings await._

 

* * *

  

There’s always something inexplicable about comebacks, that comebacks make everyone on edge and tense, anticipating what’s about to happen next - shooting new teasers, going for photoshoots, recording songs - and anything that might happen, that might delay their comeback that means they can’t see Stays as they promised.

 

 _Nothing must go wrong_ , Chan thinks, doesn’t say, but all the members get it anyway, _nothing must go wrong because we’re coming back on our first anniversary and we have to greet Stays on this day_. That means that anything - any tension at all - must be addressed immediately within the group, so nothing simmers over the weeks before it bursts and overflows and scalds everyone in the nearest vicinity. Already, Hyunjin’s had a meltdown and Jeongin had lashed out with stress, and it’s clear the toll of the comeback is beginning to wring them dry.

 

It’s why Chan sits them down, tells them that any worries or fears or anger they have, they need to tell someone, tell him, tell the group. “It doesn’t matter who you’re angry at, or however small your fear is,” Chan says quietly, “No one will judge you. What matters is you face your feelings and it doesn’t destroy you inside out.”

 

Still, even with those words, _it’s okay_ , Minho thinks, exhausted from learning the new choreography, _it’s okay, it’s nothing big. I don’t need to bring it up_. He’s so depleted of any energy that he can hardly lift the water bottle to his mouth. Watching Felix teach Jisung the part of the dance he can’t seem to grasp just yet, a hot wave of something, some feeling, rushes up to Minho’s chest, ugly and hard to tamp down. The thought is scalding and irrational, clawing up his throat until he feels sick with it because he thought he’d come past these thoughts.

 

 _Why can’t he learn from me_?

 

Just this afternoon, Minho had spent the good part of two hours going over each step with Jisung slowly, painstakingly, pointing all the movements and how best to hit them in the hopes that Jisung would get it. Jisung did not. Not really.

 

“I just need to practice more, hyung. You did so much for me already, you should go and rest,” Jisung had said, looking a little defeated himself, running hands through his hair frustratedly.

 

“You’ll get it,” Minho had said, clapping him on the shoulder because they’re both sweaty and gross, “You’ll get it in due time. Don’t worry about it, we’ve just started learning the choreography.”

 

So - So _why_ is it that Jisung seems to get it within the thirty minutes that Felix has been teaching him? To Minho’s eye, Felix is teaching Jisung the exact same way that he did, and Jisung is picking it up faster, moves already smoother and he remembers when to turn, what the beat is. _It’s not fair_ , Minho thinks, burning wave of emotions broiling in him. Just as fast, he squashes the thought down, reminding himself firmly that whoever Jisung learns from, he learns from, and it doesn’t matter.

 

A few seconds later, it occurs to Minho that maybe Jisung didn’t learn well because he didn’t teach well… As quickly as it came, Minho shoves the thoughts to the back of his brain, knowing full well it wasn’t true, and he’s a good teacher because the other members have learnt well from him and yet -

 

“You got it!” Felix cheers, and Jisung nods, the two high-fiving each other enthusiastically.

 

Minho bows his head, and for the first time in a long, long time, lets the familiar feeling of _not being enough_ drown him, like he’s stuck in another one of his nightmares that he’s afraid will come true. He doesn’t know why it’s so easy for the thoughts to come back like this. Maybe he’s tired. Exhausted. Maybe because it’s _true_. The hot emotions ice away slowly, and now he feels drained, sad, and he wants nothing more than to turn time back because how did he get from feeling happy to this within a day?

 

(jisung doesn’t tell minho that he can’t learn properly because he’s too focused on minho himself, too distracted by his concentrated expression and smooth lines that he ends up flustered and hot, trying his hardest not to - not to do something he’ll regret for the rest of his life. It also means that he doesn’t learn the moves properly, despite minho’s efforts, and the guilt starts to eat at him, but he doesn’t say it because - _it’s not a big thing_.

 

he sees minho, head bowed and water bottle slack in his grip - and thinks that maybe minho’s exhausted. instead of bothering him like usual, jisung leaves minho to rest, telling chan that minho is tired and he should rest more, and tells everyone else to clear off so minho can actually sleep. everyone else whines, wanting to prank minho, but jisung tells them to _fuck off_ and all woojin does is smile gently. _you care for him so much_.

 

jisung shrugs. pretends that he doesn’t recognise the familiar butterflies in his chest.)

 

Minho doesn’t know how long he stays there like that, head bowed and trying to prevent hot tears from falling, but no one comes for him, no one texts him or calls him, and when he feels clear-headed enough, he looks up, eyes blurry from fatigue and tears and - he’s alone. They’ve left him. No note, no text, just him, and his backpack lying beside him.

 

There are a few beats where all he hears is the devastating tick of the clock, the whirr of the fan and the all-encompassing silence that’s beginning to feel too tight, his mind blanking and he can’t feel the condensation of the water bottle against his pants and Minho can’t really breathe, and there’s something in his chest that’s fighting all that he is and then _it’s all too much_.

 

Everything comes crashing down again on him, the same feeling he had nearly drowned in now pulling him under like a tsunami, and he’s _alone_ so no one can hear him and no one had bothered to check up on him and that must mean no one cares because he’s _not enough, not enough_ , he will never, _never_ be enough and so -

 

He cries.

 

He doesn’t notice the new water bottle left beside his bag, or that his bag wasn’t even there in the first place. He doesn’t notice the chocolate bar tucked neatly into the side pocket of his bag, with a little smiley face on the wrapper along with the words ‘ _I told everyone you needed to rest_ ’ in Jisung’s cramped handwriting. He doesn’t notice that a mini-fan is sticking out of his bag, aimed at his face and neck in an attempt to cool him down.

 

Doesn’t notice anything because it’s nearly midnight, he’s alone, and no one is here for him.

 

It takes another two hours, in which Minho decides that nothing is better than throwing himself into perfecting this goddamned choreography at this unholy time, and he has too much energy and too little at the same time, and Minho knows he’s not supposed to dance this way, has a serious chance of injuring himself or worse but - but there’s a hurricane of emotions and thoughts that refuse to leave the recesses of his mind and he has to get them out somehow.

 

It takes slipping several times and almost twisting his ankle twice before the door to the dance practice studio is opening, just as Minho presses down too hard on his right foot, feels the pain shooting up from his ankle up his leg and he’s forced to stop, the pain cutting a clear path through his foggy mind.

 

“Hyung, what are you _doing_ ,” A panicked voice sounds out, too loud for 2am, too loud for Minho, too loud for the silence that had been constricting him.

 

Minho looks up, eyes blurry with sweat and tears and fatigue, and with a hot, jealous pang in his heart he dips his head, acknowledging Felix. He _shouldn’t_ be feeling this jealousy, this irrational feeling, not for Felix, who had done nothing wrong to him. Felix, who is good and pure and is everything better in this world, and Minho shouldn’t even be allowed to breath the same air as him.

 

 _You should have been the one to teach Jisung_ , the thought in his brain says, whispers, malicious, _but you didn’t. Felix is so much better than you, he can actually teach someone else properly, isn’t selfish like you, knows how to teach properly_ -

 

“Everyone’s been waiting for you, hyung, let’s go,” Felix says, tone careful and delicate, and Minho hates it. Hates that Felix can pick up that he’s not like his usual self, hates that Felix feels the need to be on pin pricks around him, hates that he can’t hide his feelings well.

 

“Everyone’s waiting huh,” Minho says, the words tearing themselves from his mouth with the thoughts revolving in his mind insistently cruel and pessimistic, tone bitter and resentful. He immediately regrets it, watching Felix recoil slightly from the cold words before a steely look dawns on his face.

 

“Yes,” Felix says firmly, “Everyone waited for you, hyung. Jisung said to let you rest because you looked tired so we waited for you until you had some rest.” He spares Minho’s another glance, like he isn’t sure if he should say it, but continues anyway, “And you shouldn’t be dancing like that, you can hurt yourself. No one wants you to get hurt.”

 

Minho - hates it. Hates that Felix is absolutely right, and his logical mind knows that everyone would have waited for him, but the him in the darkness, mind shrouded in shadows doesn’t see the light, doesn’t see anything how he usually would, and he knows he’s going to drown like this soon. He feels sick with the jealousy he has for Felix, sick with himself for thinking he’s not enough, sick with trying to hurt himself in ways he promised himself he wouldn’t again.

 

“I’m sorry,” Minho mumbles, and it’s like he’s crumbling in front of Felix’s eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m tired. Let’s go home.”

 

Felix hesitates, unsure of the sudden change in Minho’s demeanor and feeling like Minho needs help, in one way or another. “Yeah. Okay. Have you eaten the chocolate bar Jisung left for you?”

 

Minho looks up, and Felix doesn’t like the clouded look in his eyes, doesn’t like the hunch in his shoulders or how low he carries himself. “The what?” Felix doesn’t like how small his hyung’s voice is, how weak it seems, like Minho is clinging barely clinging on by a thread and something’s going to cut him away soon. Felix doesn’t like how the thought occurs to him that maybe Minho will be the one to cut himself away soon.

 

“The chocolate bar. In your bag, hyung. Jisung left it because you haven’t eaten since breakfast and you need to stay healthy.”  

 

“Oh.”

 

The walk to the car is silent, Minho shuffling behind Felix, lost in his thoughts and weighed down by exhaustion. Felix feels apprehensive, like something’s bound to happen soon, like something will happen to Minho soon and he doesn’t like the crawl of dread up his throat, the need to say something growing stronger each second.

 

“Hyung,” Felix stops, facing Minho, right before they exit the building. “I - I just - Hyung, you know everyone cares for you, yeah? We wouldn’t be us without you, if you wanna talk or anything, you can come to any one of us. Just - we love you, yeah?”

 

“Thank you,” Minho murmurs, but that doesn’t stop the _you would be better without me_ flashing across his brain like a bolt of lightning in the darkly inked sky, and he hates himself for thinking about it. “I know,” He adds, because he truly, really, does know that he can approach any one of the others to talk about anything at all, but the thought of approaching Jisung, of Chan hearing about it and making them talk it out - the thought is appalling, and is enough to make him retch.

 

What is he supposed to say? That he was jealous because Felix taught Jisung better than he did?

 

No, the thought of saying it out loud is ridiculous and questionable, and to Minho, right there and then, it’s better to keep it to himself, to keep the hot jealousy and bitter insecurity close to his chest where no one can touch him, to make sure none of the members - who are pure and innocent, and have done nothing wrong whatsoever - know that he is ugly mirror shards and bloodied pens under a facade of sweet smiles and witty retorts.

 

 _They can’t know_ , Minho reasons with himself as they climb into the car and he settles in next to Seungmin, who is fast asleep. _They can’t know_. He looks over at Seungmin, face peaceful and eyes fluttering, lulled by the low noise of the conversation and the roll of the car tyres over gravel. He looks behind at Felix, Hyunjin and Jisung, all tired but still at their brightest best and laughing lowly at something Jisung’s said. He stares at his phone, which has chimed softly with several messages from Chan, Changbin and Woojin, all asking if he’s okay and if he’s eaten.

 

 _They can’t know_ , Minho says, more to reassure himself than to protect the rest of them, _I won’t let them know_. He looks over again at Seungmin, soft, sweet and innocent in his slumber, and makes a promise to himself that he has to protect them, if not from himself, then from the world.

 

It’s like he’s inked out his own tragedy.

 

(and jisung, who’s been fraying at the edges with nerves all day, brightens to see minho climb in the car, but there’s not a single peep from his hyung, not even a wave or grunt as acknowledgement, and jisung’s mind goes into overdrive, wondering if he’s okay. minho is quiet, too quiet, and as they get out of the car a half hour later, he looks weary and tired, face drawn in and eyes swollen.

 

 _he’d been crying_ , jisung realises, but he doesn’t know why minho’s been crying, or if minho even wanted to be comforted. he doesn’t get a chance anyway, when minho shuts himself in the bathroom and the sound of water separates them. standing outside the shower door, jisung’s only barrier is a wooden door, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this distant from minho before, and he doesn’t think the sound of the water rushing has ever sounded this lonely before.

 

he goes to bed that night, and doesn’t fall asleep. he pretends not to notice that the kitchen lights are on, or that he hears someone sob softly because - because minho hadn’t asked for help, he thinks, but his heart is wearing away with pain and he wants to help minho so badly, but his courage fails him and the morning has dawned.

 

“help me with the dance, hyung?” jisung asks as soon as they arrive at the studio, but minho doesn’t even look at him.

 

“go find lix,” minho says shortly, then leaves even though he’s just arrived.

 

jisung is startled, and there’s something in minho’s voice that he’s never heard before and he doesn’t like how minho keeps to himself, doesn’t talk much, spends his time on his phone frowning at his own fancams or ruining his body with dance. he’s being irrational, jisung thinks to himself, trying not to sting with how many times minho had shrugged him off when usually minho was every bit as affectionate and loving, if not more. he doesn’t know what minho is trying to do, but he’s not going to let go of it.

 

he goes to chan, naturally. _it sounds like he’s jealous_ , chan says first, then bites his lip, _but jisung, do you remember when he last behaved like this_?

 

jisung doesn’t digest the question at first, only catching _jealous_ from chan and he wonders if minho harbours the same feelings as he does. “why would he be jealous,” jisung says before he can help it, like he’s desperate to know if he’s feelings are reciprocated.

 

chan levels a gaze at jisung, and everything jisung wants to know is written in his expression.

 

later, felix enters, chewing on his bottom lip, quivering, and tells chan what happened last night.

 

it would have had to be the comeback that was tearing minho apart, chan guesses, but then jisung mentions the sudden downturn of minho’s mood after he didn’t learn well, and chan starts to think maybe there’s another reason why minho feels this way.

 

“jisung,” chan says before the other can leave, “have you ever told minho you care for him?”)

 

* * *

 

“Minho-yah,” Chan calls softly, his voice echoing through the living room, “Where are you?”

 

They had all come home early for the first time in months, having had the opportunity to have dinner together. With what Jisung had told him yesterday morning revolving in his mind, Chan took more notice with Minho, giving him more food, pressing what he hoped were comforting touches to his hair and shoulders, telling him he’d done a good job today.

 

Minho had responded to all of his gestures either with silence, or a hum that meant _I don’t really believe you but thank you_.

 

“Here,” A small voice utters, and Minho shuffles out of the bathroom, hair drenched and clad in a too big sweater and loose sweatpants. His eyes are red, like he’s been crying, and cheeks puffy. Even his voice is hoarse, the evidence that he’s been suppressing sobs coming to light, and he’s fidgeting slightly in the small silence that had filled the space between them.

 

Chan just smiles, patting the seat on the couch next to him. “Come sit with me. Are you feeling better?” Minho doesn’t question how he knows he isn’t feeling well.

 

Minho hums again. “Cleaner.”

 

“Feel anything?”

 

Minho looks over at Chan then, then turns away again. “Not really.” A pause. “Not really okay, I guess. But - But my mind’s a bit clearer.” He’s staring down onto his lap, where his fingers have knotted together tightly, like he’s nervous about something.

 

Chan smooths a hand down Minho’s back gently, not wanting to startle him with too much affection, and waits for Minho’s words.

 

“I’m just sorry towards Jisung and Felix,” Minho finally says, after a long stretch of silence where he tries to find the correct words. “I - I don’t know what happened to me. I was okay, then suddenly - I wasn’t. I don’t know, I don’t like it when - when it happens. And - I was feeling irrational. I didn’t mean to make you worry like this, hyung, I’m sorry.”

 

“Hey,” Chan says, hand slipping around Minho’s shoulders, “I’ll always worry about you, I love you. And it’s okay, you don’t need a reason to not be okay. It’s hard, I know, but you always come around, Minho-ah, you always do.” Minho looks up at him now, eyes glistening with what Chan thinks are tears. “I believe in you, Minho,” Chan continues quietly, “You came back to us all that time ago, and I know you’ll come back to us this time too. We’re here with you, all along the way, we’ll never forget you.”

 

Minho just leans over, burying his head in the crook of Chan’s neck and shoulder, body starting to shake, and Chan can feel the dampness of his hair and the tears that are staining his shirt, but Chan doesn’t care.

 

“We’re family,” Chan whispers fiercely into Minho’s hair, “We don’t leave anyone behind, and we certainly won’t leave you.”

 

“Thank you,” Minho says, voice barely above a breeze, “Thank you.”

 

Like that, crying, Minho falls asleep on Chan’s shoulder, exhausted from his mind and crying, so Chan picks him up, about to drop him in his room when Jisung emerges, eyes trained on Minho.

 

“Hyung,” Jisung says softly, “Can - Can I sleep with him tonight, please? I - I want to take care of him.” There’s a beat in which Chan is about to say yes when Jisung adds, “He gets nightmares, hyung. I - I’ve seen them before. He wakes up crying, shaking, because he thinks he’s alone and - and I don’t want that to happen to him tonight, hyung. Please.”

 

“Of course,” Chan says, like he can say no. “Open the door wider, Jisung.”

 

The both of them maneuver Minho to Jisung’s bed, trying not to jostle him. In the room, Hyunjin and Seungmin look up, looking slightly alarmed at the sight of Minho like that. Chan tells them to go outside so he can tell everyone, that Minho isn’t always the sunny sprite he tries to be. Even so, they know, having picked up on Minho’s actions throughout the days.

 

“But we love him, hyung,” Felix murmurs, eyes red like he can feel Minho’s pain, “I want him to know we love him so much.”

 

“It’s hard for him to see when he’s like this,” Changbin says, rubbing Felix’s arm soothingly, “But he knows, Lix. We just have to remind him. Take care of him.”

 

“Jisung’s doing that,” Seungmin pipes up, “They’re in our room. And - And I think maybe - can we get Minho-hyung a day off tomorrow? Let him rest, or we take care of him. He deserves it. So much.” _I don’t want him to keep hurting like this_ , Seungmin’s words goes unspoken, but they get what he’s saying anyway.

 

“I’ll call the manager,” Woojin says, pressing a hand on Chan’s shoulder, “You stay here. Jisung might need you in a while.”

 

Inside the room, Jisung can hear the soft rise and fall of the voices outside the room, the incomprehensible chatter smoothing over the jagged edges of his worry as he strokes Minho’s hair gently, hoping it won’t disturb him.

 

Jisung doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at Minho like this, watching the other sleep, Minho’s face occasionally pinched and tight before the forehead smooths out and the mouth returns to the slight pout. The worry and guilt that’s been simmering in his chest for the few days Minho has been like this is boiling now, the need to tell Minho that he cares, that he wants to stay and that he _loves_ becoming overwhelming, words ready to spill at the tip of his tongue.

 

Still, he keeps them inside for when Minho can actually hear them, when he can look into Minho’s eyes and tell them he means the words with his whole heart.

 

It takes a while more before Minho’s whimpering softly, hands scrabbling on the blanket, then he’s waking up, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes and for a moment, he can’t see anything, just feels the desperate loneliness of all his waking nightmares, that he isn’t part of Stray Kids, that everything he’s done is a terrible dream that he has to shoulder in his waking moments now. The same choking feeling of being left behind is starting to wrap around his chest, but then there’s a pair of arms pulling him up into warmth, hands pushing his head into a shoulder and then he feels calming strokes down his back.

 

“You’re okay, hyung,” Minho feels rather than hears, feeling the vibrations and the lilt of the voice and he’s stunned into stillness, “You’re gonna be okay, hyung, I promise.”

 

It’s Jisung. Jisung, who had taken care of him and he didn’t notice that Jisung did. Jisung, who had shown he cared in more ways than one and he can’t believe he didn't see it. Jisung, whom he realises, in this very moment, he loves, more than anything else in the world and he’s starting to recognise there’s more than plain irrationality to his feelings in the first place.

 

“Same dream, hyung?”

 

Minho nods, face still buried in Jisung’s shoulder, and he brings his arms up to clutch at Jisung’s sides. “Thought I was alone again,” He says simply, and Jisung tries to keep his heart from shattering at the other’s broken voice. “Thought everyone left. Thought _you_ left,” Minho adds, looking up now, his expression plain and tired but Jisung can see the pain in the corners of his mouth, the slight pinch of his brow.

 

“I would never,” Jisung says, because it’s the truth and also because he doesn’t really know what else to say, “I could be told to leave you and I would never.”

 

There’s a small pause, the outside chatter filtering in, then Minho’s closing his eyes, resting his head on Jisung’s shoulder once again. “Thank you.”

 

“You have nothing - _nothing_ to thank me for. I want to. To stay.”

 

The words Jisung wants to say are stuck in his throat now, but he stays very, very still, unwilling to disturb Minho, who’s breathing has smoothed out now.  

 

“They’re talking about me,” Minho says, now able to discern the voices from outside and the louder voice of Woojin, who seems to be on the phone, once again staring placidly up at Jisung, who tries not to notice how red his eyes are.

 

“They are,” Jisung agrees, “Not in a bad way.”

 

“I want to apologise,” Minho hums, “For making them worry. I didn’t want to make anyone worry.” Jisung can almost hear the _I don’t deserve their worry_ Minho didn’t say, and he just pulls Minho closer, tries to place the words he wants to say.

 

“Hyung,” Jisung starts, “I - I want you to know something.” He pulls back slightly, trying to get Minho to look up at him, but the other seems to have frozen in place, like he’s nervous about something. “That day - when you were trying to teach me the choreography… I’m sorry I didn’t learn well. I - I was distracted,” Jisung admits, hot flush coming up to settle on his cheeks, and he can see Minho’s confusion, that the conversation wasn’t going down wherever he expected it to be. “I was distracted by you, hyung. You looked so pretty like that, teaching, and I didn’t learn well because - because I was looking at you.”

 

“Jisung,” Minho starts shakily, “What are you saying?”

 

“I’m saying - I’m saying that I’ll always look at you. I’ll look _after_ you. I want to be there for you, with you, by your side and make sure you’re okay. I want you, as you are, as you will be.”

 

“You - You’re not just saying this, are you?” Minho asks softly, several beats later. He isn’t meeting Jisung’s gaze, still frozen and bottom lip quivering.

 

“I mean them,” Jisung says, “I mean all of them.”

 

Minho’s head dips again, finding the crook of Jisung’s neck and shoulder, then Jisung starts to feel the dampness of Minho’s tears again, feels the shake of Minho’s body and the stifled sobs that Minho refuses to let out.

 

It breaks his heart to see Minho shaking this badly, trying his best to keep quiet so the rest won’t hear him, and it shatters those already broken pieces when Minho breathes shakily, “I’m afraid you won’t want me one day. That… That you’ll see I’m not bright and happy all the time and - and you’ll leave me because I’m not - I’m not good enough, and I’ll never reach your best.”

 

Jisung just wraps his arms tightly around Minho, the words tumbling out faster than he can comprehend. “I want you, hyung, as you are. I don’t care that you can’t be happy and bright all the time - no one can. I want you as you are, at your lowest point and as you will be, at your highest point. I want to be there for you, and I would never, never leave you.” He makes himself pause, forcing himself to take a breath, before he tries to make sense of what he wants to say. “Hyung, you can’t compare your worst to someone else’s best… That’s like comparing your starting line to someone’s finishing point, and besides, the only one you should compare to is yourself. And Minho, I promise you, I’ll be here. I’ll be here for you, for your everything, for when you’re not good and when you’re good, because - because I _love_ you, hyung, I love you.”

 

A silence, then - Minho breaks.

 

His sobs increase in volume, incomprehensible whimpers now sounding like a multitude of _I’m sorry_ ’s and Jisung is sure that the rest of them can hear Minho crying from outside, but it doesn’t matter, _it doesn’t matter_ , Minho’s heard him and he knows it’s real, it’s genuine, and the world could be shattering around them but Jisung doesn’t care. Minho has come back to them, has come back to him, and that’s all that matters.

 

How long do they stay like that? Jisung doesn’t know, but no one disturbs them, and when Minho’s body stops shaking, and he’s reaching up to rub at his eyes furiously, Jisung reaches over, presses a few tissues gently to Minho’s face.

 

“Be kind to yourself, hyung.”

 

“... I’m trying.”

 

“I know,” Jisung murmurs, smooths a hand over Minho’s tousled hair, “I know.” He takes the damp tissues and throws them away, now passing a bottle of water to Minho. Minho sips at it in short bursts, voice still broken, not quite himself yet but it’s better, will get better.

 

“Stay with me?” Minho asks, and it’s the first request he’s made, “Please?”

 

“Of course.”

 

It’s later, when the sky is twilight and the lamp casts a soft glow on them that Minho says it. “Jisung. I love you.” He’s meeting Jisung’s gaze then, eyes still red and swollen, mouth not quite able to turn upwards yet, but he’s saying it, and there’s a lightness in his eyes that Jisung hasn’t seen in what feels like forever. “I love you,” He says again, like he wants to taste the words rolling off his tongue, and Jisung could listen to him forever.

 

“You didn’t need to say it back, hyung. We’re in no hurry” Jisung reminds him anyway, overcome with affection for the other.

 

“I know,” Minho whispers, and his eyes are drooping, mind for once a pleasant haze of fatigue not blunted by stress’ sharp knife, “I know. But I do, and it’s true. I love you, for all that you are and will be.” He falls asleep like that, then, soft on the edge of sleep, and Jisung knows no nightmares will wake him up this time.

 

Jisung looks at Minho for a while, takes in the slope of his nose and the flutter of his eyelashes; the small mouth and the soft skin. Wants to kiss all of them and make sure Minho knows he’s so, so loved. But, he thinks, as he settles into the embrace of slumber as well, that can wait. They have time, and for now, Minho knows.

 

“Goodnight, hyung,” Jisung thinks he whispers, then he’s falling, falling, just as the first rays of the dawn begins to lighten the dark sky.

 

* * *

 

 

Minho gets better in small, slow ways, Jisung thinks. He doesn’t think Minho notices the small differences, but to him, he notices, and he’s always so proud, so encouraging. It’s in the way Minho makes ramyun for himself two days later. It’s in the way Minho steals Felix’s scarf to wear the next day after that. It’s in the way he makes a stupid pun during dance practice a week later. It’s in the way he starts to meet Jisung’s gaze and smile and in the way he holds Jisung’s hand and in the way he tries his best to tell at least one person if he thinks he needs help.

 

It gets worse sometimes, though.

 

Minho breaks a glass one day, and his mood shatters with it. He misses a step in the choreography and can’t get himself back on track. He spills the _tteokbokki_ sauce over the counter and almost cries in the kitchen.

 

“I hate it,” Minho had whispered that night, voice hoarse and Jisung tries not to notice how he still hates this hoarseness, despite having heard it so many times, “I hate that I feel this way. I just - want to be better, already, Sungie. I want to be better.”

 

“You _are_ better, hyung,” Jisung says, promises, “You will be better. We’ll stick through this together.”

 

Even so, the date of the comeback draws ever closer, looming over their heads, and instead of being stressed, Minho seems to draw energy from it, looking forward to meeting Stays.

 

“I want to get better for them too,” Minho says one day, when they’re cuddled in bed and they have a free afternoon. “I want to show them how much better I got. I want them to be happy.”

 

“They’re incredibly proud of you, you know?” Jisung says, pressing kisses the top of his forehead, and the button of his nose, heart fluttering with the giggles that Minho releases. “I’m so proud of you, hyung.”

 

Minho just smiles at him, soft and sugary, and it’s all the more sweeter when it’s the first time Jisung has seen this smile in a while. The kind of smile that means Minho’s eyes are expressive and his face is an open book, reflecting whatever he’s thinking about. And like this, with his eyes shining, lips parted and a blush colouring the apples of his cheeks, Jisung has a good guess what Minho is thinking about.

 

“I love you,” Minho says, and the words are candy, gold, jewels, “I love you so much. As you are, as you will be, and always.” He’s trying not to smile too much, but there is happiness in the way he suppresses his smile, and Jisung can only fall in love helplessly.

 

“I love you too,” Jisung says, trying not to lose himself in Minho’s gaze, happy that Minho’s happy, “So much. Always.”

 

There’s a small silence that baskets the two of them, and it is soft, warm, a long-awaited, long-earned happiness and calm that they’ve been holding on for, and having days like this makes their happiness so much more precious. Their fingers are laced messily together, bodies intertwined limb for limb and with the soft blankets and the sweet smell of Minho’s shampoo tickling his nose, Jisung doesn’t think it can get any better.

 

How long do they stay like that? Staring into each other’s eyes, warmth stemming from the two of them and happiness cocooning them like invisible silk threads. The kind of moments that Minho will remember when he desperately needs to be happy, to remember what happiness is like, and he will never forget this moment.

 

“Cuddle?” Minho asks, trying not to let the shyness tint his tone, and pouts when Jisung giggles softly.

 

“We already are.”

 

“Then let’s sleep like this,” Minho decides, letting a smile curl his lips upwards, and pulls Jisung closer to him. “Goodnight, Sungie. I love you.”

 

“Love you too, hyungie,” Jisung says, so incredibly overcome with love, and he thinks Minho hears the sappiness in his voice because Minho just whines a little before settling and becoming still.

 

As Minho falls asleep slowly, still holding on to him, Jisung thinks he loves him. Loves him when he’s soft and sweet, loves him when he’s shining on stage, loves him when he’s crying and can’t see, loves him when he’s blinded, loves him always. Loves him for all that he is, for all that he will be and for everything that makes Minho himself.

 

Minho will have more bad days, he knows, but he’s staying, because he wants to, because he would never leave, and because he loves Minho.

 

They will have storms, and they will go under, and they will have grey skies and grey clouds, but it only makes the sunny days they have together sweeter, only makes them look forward to calmness, only makes them want to brave through it together.

 

Being better is not far away, and together, the distance seems shorter and more bearable, with more sunshine for them. It is not the answer to everything, being together, but it helps, and they’re in love, even if they aren’t anything yet. Being better will come soon, and they’ll face their days together.

 

One day at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> me, reading over the tags: why is this so angsty
> 
> but really, i thought i should tag everything because i dont anyone reading it and suddenly finding they've remembered something they don't want to,,,, ngl i read some fics before and they didnt tag eating disorders s o i dont want that to happen to anyone!! i really am terribly sorry if i forgot to add a warning/tag for something in the fic, if i did, please tell me and i will add the warning. 
> 
> moving on, i hope you enjoyed the fic mom!!!!!!!!!! i really did enjoy writing this fic uwuwuw and ofc everyone else too i hope like it uwu i really really wanted to show how real mental illnesses are and that recovery isnt a straight road but i believe in all of you and you will be in a better place, no matter how dark you are now. also ngl i love the line 'i want you, as you are, and as you will be' like hi hello sorry im narcissistic but i love this what u gonna do
> 
> also if anyone else wants to commission me.... my tumblr is @miroh-minho (@stay-serenity is my old url uwu) pls i need money to repair my phone and i can give u pretty fics!! like this!! idk is calling my own fics pretty narcissistic well im doing it but anyway thank you for reading!!!


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